


Whalesong and Lullabies

by Demmora



Category: Dishonored
Genre: And you can pry that from my cold dead hands, Family Dynamics, I much prefer the idea that she spent her afterlife backseat parenting through the Void, I refute the idea that he ever lost the heart, Low Chaos, Missing Moments, head meta, the heart is a troll in my head, thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-20 11:07:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10661313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demmora/pseuds/Demmora





	Whalesong and Lullabies

Rain spatters lightly against the windowpane, the sound muffled by the heavy drapes which block the predawn light from filtering into the cloistered room tucked into the end of the royal apartments.

When the bedroom door clicks open, Corvo twitches into wakefulness, momentarily tensing before willing himself back into restfulness. Even if he hadn’t recognized the familiar patter of slippered feet over the carpeted floor, the Heart would have warned him of any danger. She always does.

“Corvo?” the voice is soft and hesitant, testing to see whether he is awake or not.

Without saying anything he lifts up his arm, and Emily dives under the covers with him, all cold feet and chilled hands pressed tightly against him, burrowing into his chest.

“Bad dream?” he asks, curving his arm around her back and tucking her head beneath his chin.

“No.” she replies, but Corvo knows it to be a lie. He knows it without needing the Heart. She isn’t so cold to be trembling as she is, but he doesn’t pry, not now when all she wants is to be held and feel safe. Instinctively he pulls her closer, adjusting their position until he is all but curled around her—just as he and Jessamine had done when Emily was a baby, laid out on the bed between them. Two halves sheltering their whole.

“Did I ever tell you,” he begins clearing some of the sleep from his voice, but careful to keep it low, “about the time when the Duke sent me out to find the men who stole the Stone of Serkonos?”

He probably has, he knows. But her favorite stories always involve chases over rooftops and sword fights, and the familiarity of the story is more important than the actual words. So he talks, filling up the night until there is nothing left to say and Emily slackens in his arms. Only then does Corvo allow himself to rest, lulled by the gentle sound of her breathing and the ever present melody of whale song which haunts his hours between darkness and light and sings deep within his soul.

 

“ _Emily_ ,” the sound of her name pulls him from the depths of sleep again, and Corvo half reaches for the Void before the reassuring weight of his daughter in his arms stills the panic.

“ _Emily_.” The voice tries again, an insistent whisper from outside his door, voice bordering on the same dread he’d felt surge through his own veins mere seconds before. Like ice water pouring down the back of his skull.

Realizing that he still holds some of the power in his left hand, Corvo flicks his fingers in a minute gesture, summoning just enough wind to force his bedroom door further open and carry his voice out into the corridor without raising it above a whisper.

“Callista.”

The footsteps falter then draw nearer, and Callista’s worried face appears around the side of the open door, cast in waxy shadow by the banked blue light of the wall burners. If she questions how his door came to open by itself or how she heard him it doesn’t show. Few people question what the Lord Protector can do these days. He is the man who restored balance to the Empire and saved the Empress—one of them at least.

“Corvo?” her eyes fall on the bundled shape in his bed and some of the tension eases out of her face as she steps fully into the room, night robe drawn tightly closed at her throat with whitened knuckles.  “Corvo, I’m sorry, I woke up and she was gone…”

Half rising out of the covers, his free hand held up in a quieting gesture, Corvo cradles his precious bundle to his chest. Emily doesn’t wake, but she does cling tighter to him in sleep. “It’s all right, she didn’t go far.”

Callista steps further into the room, and Corvo reads the hesitancy in her body language, her dark eyes roaming around the room so recently prepared for him. The smell of fresh paint still hangs in the air, but despite the opulent furnishings the room is devoid of character. Until mere weeks ago it had been a servant’s room, but Corvo had been unable to find peace in his old quarters, unable to find solace in the familiarity of his old life, every trinket, every detail, right down to the chipped paint behind his desk had brought him pain. And so the Lord Protector had stated a wish to be closer to the rooms of the new Empress—who likewise refused to sleep in the grandeur of her mother’s quarters, preferring her old nursery rooms and the comfort of Callista beside her—and turned out the two servant girls who had lived in here, the room hurriedly made over to look more like a guest room rather than a servants lodgings. It was luxury compared to his berth at the Hounds Pitt Pub, but impersonal and bland in its finery. Save of course for his desk which was piled high, and various items of clothing strewn about the floor, laying where they’d been left to fall before he’d climbed wearily into bed. It was then that he heard the faint murmur of the Heart in the back of his mind, the gentle throb pulsing through the Void, accompanied by the ghostly keen of singing leviathans. It almost felt… _amused_. _  
_

_Her heart is racing, but it isn’t fear, she has a weakness for a muscled physique…_

It was then that Corvo realized he was completely bare from the waist up, and that Callista was looking everywhere but at him. He tried not to huff with amusement, half abashed and half perplexed as to why the Heart would mention such a thing at all…it was still easier to think of her as his Heart. To call it by her real name was akin to being torn open and flayed alive.

 _She is rather lovely though, in her way_ ¸ the Heart continues, mirroring the words of the late High Overseer Martin, the eeriness of it causing a shudder to ripple down Corvo’s spine. Gently he shuts the throb of the Heart out, dulling it to a rhythmic pound until it might well be his own.

The morning dawn is just beginning to spill in through a gap in the drapes, and Callista moves to open them slightly further, freeing the room of its slumbering gloom. It's then that Emily, already rousing out of sleep, opens her eyes with a wince, turning her head against Corvo’s chest with a mumbled protest.

“Emily,” he tries, smiling when she screws her eyes tighter shut, feigning sleep, even as he shakes her gently. “Your Majesty,” he tries again, glancing to Callista with feigned concern, who smiles tightly at his tone, “It seems we’ll need to eat breakfast all ourselves, the Empress is still sound asleep.”

“Such a shame,” Callista adds, playing the game. “And I’d ordered the chef to make sweet berry pastries for this morning.”

Emily’s eyes are open in an instant, and she all but springs out of Corvo’s arms toward Callista who has come to the side of the bed, arms open to greet her Empress in a warm hug. It strikes Corvo how much more relaxed Callista has become with her affections, though in truth her devotion to Emily was never in doubt. It makes him feel better however, to know that he is not the only one from whom Emily gleams genuine affection. She needs more than him, he knows this. Even though Corvo would gladly spill out his life force and wade through the ocean to sell his bones to the Outsider himself to keep her safe, it takes more than a willingness to die to make sure she truly lives.  

“I’m awake!”

“Yes, I can see that now,” Callista comments, huffing slightly with the strain of lifting Emily up into her arms like a much smaller child, but she manages it all the same, letting the girl wrap her legs about her waist, hugging her tight. “You shouldn’t leave me like that,” she carries on with more severity, but doesn’t put her down and holds her just as tight. “You know you can’t roam the palace alone.”

“I wasn’t alone,” Emily informs her around a yawn, “I was with Corvo.”

Callista gives Corvo a look, which Corvo returns in kind with a little shrug. He’s told Emily before that if she wants to leave her room and come sleep in his that she has to rouse Callista first. But he can understand her desire not to, knows all too well the need to run free. Even if it’s just from one end of the corridor to another.

“Come on, back to your rooms, breakfast will be served soon.”

“You’ll come eat with us, won’t you Corvo?” Emily asks, leaning so far out of Callista’s arms to almost fall, forcing Callista to turn just as Corvo untangles himself from the sheets, reaching for the shirt on the end of his bed. He sees the flush in Callista’s cheeks, and he’s not sure if he hears the Heart laughing or whether he is imagining it, but he pulls the shirt on quickly enough either way. She always had been thoroughly amused by his admirers, content with the knowledge that he belonged to her heart and soul. It was an odd sort of comfort to know that not even death could change some things.

“Yes,” he replies, already turning toward the washroom at the side of his room, rubbing a hand over the stubble of his neck and chin. “As soon as I can.”

It's almost an hour later when Corvo pushes open the door to the nursery, freshly shaved and dressed properly for the day, his hair held back in a neat tail at the nape of his neck. He’d meant to cut it by now, having spotted the first few signs of grey at his temples—and little wonder considering all that had happened in less than a year—but when push came to snip he’d been unable to do it. Jessamine had always said his hair made him look dashing, like a pirate or an adventurer. Many in her court had agreed, though not in such complimentary terms. In the end habit was a hard thing to break, but he’d get round to it one day, probably when he was older and greyer. Perhaps by then the scar on his face would be healed enough to let him grow a beard.

It had been a busy morning, full of reports and walking his own quick rounds of security, venturing up to where other guards could not go and making sure his tripwires were still in place. He’d even had the chance to consult with Captain Curnow, red eyed and fresh off the nightshift but still alert and attentive to his duties. The knowledge that the other man walked the palace along with his men was one of the only things that let Corvo sleep at all some nights. Callista had been right, the man was loyal, more faithful than any hound. Even if he did suspect Corvo of dropping him into a garbage pile that one night the High Overseer had mysteriously been branded by the mark of the heretic. That reminded him actually, he’d need to stop in at the Abbey and make himself known to the new fellow…clarify a few things as it were, and put forth the story that Burrows had branded him with the mark of the Outsider as a means to further dishonor him. The lie made the offensive sigil burn on the back of his hand, and Corvo had the distinct feeling that the Outsider was laughing at him. But to Corvo’s mind it was only partly a lie. If it hadn’t been for Burrows and High Overseer Campbell, none of this would have happened, and Corvo would never have come to the attentions of the black eyed god, who for now at least made no demands of Corvo. Save of course for the whale song which sang through his bones and pulled at him like the receding tide. It was almost pleasant sometimes, now that he had put aside the bone charms which skittered and muttered darkly to themselves. He fervently hoped it was the charms that drove the worshipers of the Outsider mad, and not the power itself.

Emily is still dressed in her night clothes, but her face is washed and her hair neatly combed. Callista sits beside her at the table, dressed and primly proper, a saucer and tea cup in hand. Bone china, and not paper, he notes, though he’s been privileged to enjoy one or two paper teacup parties since their return to the palace, immensely glad that on some level she is still his little Emily, so desperately happy to play with him.

“Corvo!” Emily cries, jumping up and running to him in a flourish of night clothes as though she had not already seen him this morning. “You’re just in time, Helena just brought breakfast.”

“Helena?” Corvo inquires politely, placing Emily back in her seat and pulling out a chair beside her. Callista gives him that curiously tight little smile, and raises the teacup to her lips.

“She’s the new morning maid, the one with the green eyes.” Emily informs him, reaching over the table for a berry pie and narrowly avoiding getting her wide bathrobe sleeve in the jam bowl. Both Callista and Corvo tut at the same time and reach for her, and Emily, in a fastidious manner rolls her eyes and tucks the sleeve out of the way. It’s a little glimpse into the coming future, and Corvo can’t help the little hum of anxiety in the back of his throat. Jessamine had been particularly good at that look, and Corvo had firsthand experience of the Kaldwin women going through adolescence. He’d hoped to have a few more years before that part of her nature emerged in full.

“What are your lesson plans today?” he asks, reaching for a slice of toasted bread and scraping a thin layer of butter over it, reaching next for the tea pot and giving Callista a wry and questioning look when hot chocolate pours from the spout. Callista’s smile turns sheepish, eyes carefully averting out the window as she takes a sip from her tea cup again, cheeks coloring with embarrassment. As strict as she is in the classroom and in public, Corvo fully suspects the young woman of thoroughly spoiling Emily behind closed doors. He can’t help but like her for it.

The sound of the Void rises up momentarily, the ghost of whale song breathing through his mind, filling his nostrils with the iron tang of the sea and sending the familiar chill down his spine as the Heart speaks up unbidden again. _  
_

_I am glad…so glad, she should be happy, my happy little Emily…_

Blinking back sudden tears, Corvo focuses back in on the present, listening to Emily recite her curriculum for the day. After breakfast there is etiquette training, followed by court dancing. After a short respite there is history, and lessons with Piero in the science of natural philosophy. If Sokolov can be found and dragged from whatever den of inequity he slunk off to for the night there will be painting, and after that a brief council session with members of parliament, which Corvo will join her in.

“After that I thought we might visit Samuel, and take the boat out on the river.” She finishes, eyes sliding sideways to measure his reaction to this deviation in his impossibly busy schedule.

“No, I don’t think so.” Corvo finishes, taking a sip from his cup and wincing at the overly sweet taste. In Serkonos the beverage was considered a delicacy, but always served with spices and laced with hot chills to give it bite. Corvo, who for the last few months with the Loyalists lived on basic rations and black coffee so dark and thick to drown the Outsider—and before that prison rations—was still not used to the rich food of the palace. It sat uneasily on his stomach, though he was beginning to regain some of his old stature, less gaunt in places and not as easily tired.

Emily turned to look at him fully, planting both elbows down hard on the table and sending a spoon flying through the air, or at least she would have done had Corvo not reached out to catch it midair.

“Why not?” she demands, her expression shifting from upset to pleading in an instant, then changing tactics again to bargaining. “ _Please?_ If we do I can make up for it tomorrow, I can do more work with Piero…”

 _Ah_ , Corvo thinks to himself with some amusement but mostly cynicism as he carefully set down the spoon, _the politic emerges_.

“No, we cannot go out on the boat.” He repeats slowly, his tone brooking no argument. It’s no small task to try and discipline a little girl who can command armies and knows it, but her expression softens with resignation and Corvo feels the pang over his heart, and sighs. “Because it’s time you started lessons with me.”

Her expression flits from confusion to curiosity, blossoming into happy excitement, all in the blink of an eye.

“Lessons? What kind of lessons?”

“How to run, how to climb—properly, not the way you scrabble up trees now and frighten the life out of Callista.”

Emily giggles, glancing guiltily to Callista whose mouth is open to form words of protest, but he can see it in her eyes that she has already deferred to Corvo’s judgement. It might not be fitting for an Empress to learn to rum and jump like a Serkonos pickpocket, but they both know that Emily is more than just a poppet for a crown, and it would be better if she knew how to get away, even how to fight if necessary.

“How to fall, yes fall,” Corvo continues, seeing her curious expression. “If you’re going to climb you need to know how to fall without breaking every bone in your body. And dodge too, dodging is important.”

“And swords? Can I have a knife like you do? What about a crossbow—“

Laughing Corvo holds up his hand to slow the onslaught of enthusiasm. “One thing at a time. First you learn to move, then…maybe…”

“Oh thank you, thank you, thank you!” Emily cries, sliding from her seat and into his arms. Instinctively he presses a kiss to the top of her dark head, inhaling the familiar scent of her hair, as he always had done since the day she was born. When she looks up her dark eyes are dancing. "I'll do everything you say."

"I'll believe that when it happens," Corvo tells her, plonking her back into her seat to finish her breakfast which she attacks with newfound fervor. When he looks up Callista is smiling, a soft wry twist of her mouth that Corvo pointedly ignores  and bites into another piece of toast. 

 

She complains bitterly the whole time, because of course she does. Running for fun is different from running to escape. He relents eventually when she bursts into tears, tired little legs shaking as he scoops her up and carries her back to the royal apartments. At least she'll sleep well tonight, already drifting as she clings to him.

"Corvo?" she says softly, voice muffled by his shoulder.

"What darling?"

"Stay with me..."

He nods, pressing a kiss to the side of her head and hoisting her higher as he pushes open the door to the nursery.

"Corvo?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you hear it too?"

"Hear what darling?"

"...nothing."

 

 


End file.
